


The Silver Arrow and Aosta

by AMac0218



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:37:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMac0218/pseuds/AMac0218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Winter Soldier.<br/>This is just a load of crap, but I had an idea when I was seeing Winter Soldier. I mention a few spoilers, so be warned if you want to read it. Don’t wanna read it, don’t have to.<br/>Just a small Clint/Natasha one shot. Natasha needed to get away to reinvent herself. Nothing too deep, just a fluffy one shot. (If anyone wants a version that's more mature, let me know and I'll post it up.) Bad at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silver Arrow and Aosta

_Clint sighed as he stood in front of Natasha. They were being separated, again, after they’d just gotten back from their last mission. He was being sent all the way around the world on a mission so classified he couldn’t tell her about it, and he would be on complete radio silence until he returned. He was sure she was disliking this just as much as he was, but he’d be the one to show the disappointment and the anger like always. Natasha would grin and bear it, get the mission done fast and then wait for him to come home._

_But this time was different. After the incident in New York, they’d cut out the pussyfooting around and were actually together, whether the others knew it or not._

_He watched her, taking her in before he dug into his pocket and thrust a box at her._

_“What’s this?” she asked, a small smile pulling at her lips._

_“It’s a box. What the hell do you think it is?” he mumbled, a little embarrassed. She was never one for gifts, or public displays of affection, but as they said their goodbyes in the Avengers building, he knew everyone was pretending not to watch._

_She opened the box and smiled as she looked down at the small silver arrow, each end attached to a delicate silver chain. She wasn’t one for material possessions, neither of them were, but he had gone out of his way to get the necklace, and that alone made it special. “Clint…,”_

_“Look just…keep it on okay?” he asked._

_“Okay, okay,” she said as she took it out of the box and put it around her neck. “You big softy.”_

_He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that’s me,” he mumbled. “Go get ready,” he said as he gestured to her things. He watched as she left and then he turned to Steve. He was worried about her, more now than he ever had been before. Everything changed after New York, they’d both gotten hurt, the missions they were on could literally send them to different places in space, and he never knew what was going to happen. It was all much easier when all they had to worry about were spies with guns. “Hey,” he said as he went over to him, “if you bring her back with a hair out of place, Rogers, I swear I’ll stick an arrow so deep in your ass you’ll have to get it surgically removed from your throat. I don’t want her hurt like she was in New York again.” Steve lifted an eyebrow as he looked down at Clint. “And don’t let her know that I’m doing this because then I’ll…be in the hospital bed next to you.”_

_“Okay boys, enough with the romantic goodbye, you’ll see each other soon enough. Besides, how is Rogers going to ask out Michelle from HR if you keep trying to flirt with him, Barton?” she smiled as she walked past him, setting her hand on the archer’s chest, the most affection he’d get from her in public, before she went to the door. “I’ll see you when we get home,” she nodded, Clint nodding once in response._

_“I’m not going to ask out Michelle from HR,” Steve said as he left with Natasha._

Natasha sighed as she looked out the window of the car. She turned her head, looking over at Nick Fury seated next to her, his head back and eyes closed as well, and Steve seated across from them, his face still healing from getting hit with Bucky’s fist. “Why are we at the airport?” she asked. “I figured Steve had enough with flying objects for the next forty years.” He gave her a small smile that she could tell was sarcastic.

“You and Rogers are going to pick up Hawkeye,” Nick said as he kept his eyes closed.

“Sir, don’t we have more important things to take care of..?”

He completely ignored her, instead choosing to talk again, “When things started to hit the fan, I had Hill track down Barton and cancel his mission…Due to the incidents the other day, flights had been grounded and were unable to get here when we needed him. However, his plane is about to touch down, so get out of the damn car and debrief him,” he opened his eye and looked at her, his face serious.

She nodded as she opened the door and got out, Rogers following her, “I’ll let you know when we’re on our way back to….sir, where are we meeting?” she asked as she pushed her brows together.

“You take care of Barton, I’ll forward you the place to meet.”

She nodded again before she closed the door and they headed into the airport, sighing as she waited.

An hour passed as she and Steve stood in the same spot, looking like a couple of idiots, “About to touchdown my ass,” she mumbled, causing the captain to chuckle just the tiniest bit, his hands behind the small of his back.

“Tasha,” she heard her name, causing her to turn, wincing at a pulled muscle in her neck.  
“What the hell happened?” he asked as he went over to her, tilting her face, noticing the mark on her chin and the cut on her lip, the gauze that showed a little from under her collar. Barton turned to Steve, “I thought I said not a hair out of place…Rogers this is way worse than a hair-,”

“I’m fine,” she defended instantly, pulling back and then wincing at the pain from the gunshot wound. “And what do you mean what you said before you left?”

“Oh great, now look what you did…looks like we’re gonna be hospital room buddies,” the archer said to him as the taller man rolled his eyes. He was a little hurt that she’d pulled from his grip so fast, and it hurt worse to watch her wince from the wounds. His sharp eyes caught sight of the small silver arrow that rested right in the divot of her collarbone, causing the little bit of annoyance from her action to dissipate. She hadn’t taken it off. “So what happened,” he asked.

Natasha debriefed him as she headed out of the airport, keeping her voice hushed, even after they were in the cab and headed toward the address Fury had sent her. “So you got shot…and all those vacation days I was saving up for are just…useless…I had like six straight months saved up,” he said, his face deadpan.

After the group talked, and they got a few pieces ready to be set in motion to handle the backlash that was already drowning them and the previous SHIELD members, Fury sent everyone on their way, making sure to tell them that they needed to keep in contact over the next couple of days. 

Days later

“You won’t put us in jail,” Natasha said, confidence filling her voice as she leaned back in her chair.  
‘And how do you know that?’ one of the sentators asked.

“Because you need us. The world is a dark place…and we had a hand in that, but we’re the only ones who can help. You wanna throw me in jail?” she shrugged, lifting an eyebrow, “You know where to find me.”

She pushed away from the table and headed out of the room, ignoring the press shoving microphones in her face. Her eyes focused on him instead in the back, by the exit.

He was dressed in a black button up, black slacks, and a deep purple tie, complete with two cufflings both with blazing red hour glasses in the middle of black woven fiber. She caught his eyes and smiled a tiny smile, the corners of her lips curling up as he stood there, his face showing the pride he had for her. He knew she didn’t need to see it. Knew she didn’t ask for it. Never would, and yet there he was, square shouldered, his right hand holding his left wrist as he watched her walk toward him a smile full of pride slapped on his face.

“That’s my girl,” he smirked as he automatically turned and covered her six when she walked past him.

“You did not just call me that.”

He shrugged, “I might have,” he said. “You mouth off at senators and then turn to me with a smirk on your face…pretty hot,” he chuckled as they left the building, him holding the door open, again something she would never ask for yet he did anyway. She was her own woman, he knew that. She needed him to hold open doors for her just as much as she needed his pride. He opened the door to the Chevy, sliding in beside her. “Are we leaving?” He asked as he turned on the car.

“Not quite. I have one more stop,” she said as she picked up a file on the floor. “I have to drop this off.”

“You got it.”

She gave him the instructions to the cemetery and he told her he’d wait in the car. He leaned on the steering wheel, a smile stretching over his face as he watched her, never passing up the opportunity to admire her from afar, since she’d probably take his eyes from his skull if he ever did it up close or while they were in public or on a mission. When she returned he turned his eyes up to the ceiling of the SUV.

“Were you just ogling me?” she asked, as Clint shook his head, lips pursed trying to look innocent, and turned the car on again.

“Now can we go?”

“Yes, God, you’re like an impatient child,” she laughed quietly.

“Just wait until I start asking if we’re there yet,” he teased back before he headed off to the airport.

“You know exactly how long it takes to get there and if I hear that question one time, Clint, so help me…”

They two of them boarded a plane that touched down in Rome seven hours later; then took a train, then a bus, and then rented car to get to their little cabin outside of Aosta, Italy. It was one of their many ‘lay low’ spots, and at the moment that was exactly what they needed. He put away the groceries they bought, knowing that he’d have to rely on hunting as well when the time came.

“Kinda cold in here,” he said as he blew into his hands, causing Natasha to roll her eyes. “God, I can’t wait to lay down on that bed…it’s gonna be so much better than those fake beds at my last mission,” he grumbled. “A piece of fabric and a wooden pillow does not a real bed make.”

“Such a baby,” she walked passed him, letting her hand slide down his arm as she did so. She went over to the small furnace and turned it on, “It’ll be warm in a minute.”

“Mmhm,” he nodded as he put everything away. “So what do you want to do while we’re here?” he asked as he leaned against the counter, his arms across his chest. “Sightsee? Fish? Hunt? Spar? Reinvent yourself and be the Artist Formally Known as Black Widow?” He smiled at his own joke, as he always did, but it fell away fast, his brows furrowing when she didn’t answer, “Natasha?”

Their relationship had always been a quiet one, and normally Clint would have been glad for that silence, the comfort that came with it, but at the moment he could tell something was bothering her. “What’s on your mind, Nat?” He asked. She looked up at him, the look in her eyes completely unnerving him. She looked lost, and scared, and that terrified him.

She went over to him, putting her hands on his chest, palms flat and barely breathing as she closed his eyes and leaned forward a little, her forehead in line with his lips. This silence was so heavy it seemed to mix with the heat that was working its way through the small cabin and surrounding them.

“Tasha…,” he whispered her name in his own way. The tone was full of concern, and a feeling so thick it threatened to choke her. The feeling had been something she had once said was for children, something he’d fallen prey to long ago, and so had she, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. His voice always sounded so different whenever he said her name. She’d heard her name over and over again on this last mission, spoken by everyone, but no one could make her feel the things he did whenever he said it. She swallowed thickly as she shook her head, pulling in a ragged breath before she let it out. “Hey…talk to me,” he said as he tilted her head up, his index finger curled under her chin as his thumb brushed over her jawline.

She pulled in another breath, her big blue eyes glossing over with unshed tears. They pulled at his heart so hard he swore he felt his knees give out. “I put out…everything,” she said to him, her voice a little broken.

He shrugged, “Yeah,” he nodded, “but you did it for the right reasons.”

She shook her head, “That isn’t…I don’t want people to know about me, Clint.”

He wanted to come back to that statement with something witty or charming, but he let it slide, his thumb slowly moving in small circles on her collarbone, coaxing her to continue.

“I’ve been lying…my hand has been in every major world power secret organization in the world, more or less, and I don’t want to end back up on the wrong side of this thing again. I don’t want to walk down the street and be known as….Drakov’s daughter,” she shivered at the thought. “I don’t want to be known for the hospital fire or…anything else. I want them to see me when they look at me. I’ve had enough of people thinking I’m on the fence…I wonder how many people thought I was a part of HYDRA in all of this…”

“No one thought that.”

“You didn’t? Not even for a second?” She wanted the answer, because if he had thought that, even for a moment, then everyone had thought it.

“I never would and you know that.” He said seriously. After a few minutes, Clint sighed before he shook his head, “Natasha…I see you,” he lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I saw the real you when I first met you, that’s why I didn’t kill you when I had the chance..”

“When did you ever have the chance?” she asked, trying to change the subject, feeling too naked and stripped bare to finish this conversation.

“Not the point, and stop avoiding,” he called her bluff. “I know who you are…I know probably more than what the general public knows now…and look where I am.” He shrugged. “In the middle of the woods with you, alone…and I feel things for you, Tasha, that…haven’t changed since I found out everything about you…And I can guarantee that no one is going to stop wearing Black Widow t-shirts,” he said to her.

“No one wears Black Widow t-shirts.”

“Fine. Belt buckles and bad ass boots then…so picky,” he shook his head and gave a quiet ‘tsk’ of his tongue. His fingers reached up and be gently brushed the tiny arrow with the tip of his finger. He led her over to the bed, taking a seat on the mattress before he leaned forward and kissed the tiny piece of silver, keeping his nose against the dip in her collarbone as he breathed, waiting for her to say something else. He could tell she had more to talk about, he could feel it in her body, the way she held herself and the tension in her muscles.

“I thought..,” she trailed off for a moment. “I thought I knew who I was playing for…which team…I thought I was…doing something right…helping uphold something that helped others, and instead I’ve been following lies….Why did I leave the KGB to come here if I was just going to do the same thing? I had so much red in my ledger…and I have more…and I’m never going to be able to clear it now..”

He frowned as he pulled back and looked up at her, “Natasha,” he shook his head, wrapping an arm around her waist as he pulled her between his legs. “You’re on the right team,” he said quietly. “You saved the world last year…you saved millions today…Hell you aired out everyone’s dirty laundry online just to level the playing field again,” he tried to make her smile, though she genuinely was upset. He shook his head, “You did it because you knew it was the right thing to do…and you shut down SHIELD…And you can help rebuild it again if that’s what they wanna do…or not…but you’ve already wiped out some of the red, I think you’ve wiped out more than you know.” he smiled a little, glad that he had managed to get a small twitch from the corners of her mouth. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the small silver arrow nestled against her smooth skin. “You’re on the right course to making amends…to clearing the ledger…you’ve come a long way from the woman I first met…and what I saw in you that day I still see in you now,” he smiled.

She looked down at him, running her fingers through the hair on the side of his head. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his before she straightened up and then moved, her knees hitting the bed next to his hips. She straddled his waist, moving to kiss him again, wincing at the pain from the wound. She sighed as she leaned back a little. Clint lifted his fingers and carefully moved the already deep neckline to the side, looking at the big white bandage that engulfed most of her shoulder on both sides. “I can’t believe Rogers let you get shot,” he said, speaking for the first time in a few long minutes, pulling back as he looked at her shoulder. 

“I’ve been shot before…by the same guy no less…I’m sure you’d remember the Winter Soldier…ruined bikinis for me.”

He shook his head, “Nothing could ruin you in a bikini,” he smiled up at her.

“Hm...always a charmer, Clint,” her fingers ran over the hair that went behind his ear.

“You know it,” he winked. “So do you think I’ll get my 401k?” He asked.

“Shut up,” she laughed quietly, leaning down and gripping the back of his head as she parted her lips over his.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her down against him as he caught her lower lip between his teeth. He smirked around it before he tugged gently and tilted his head again to the right, slanting his mouth over hers as he groaned quietly. His hands went up to her hair, fisting in the fiery red locks. “Don’t like your hair,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress you.” She put her hand on his chest and pushed him backward, watching as he landed on the mattress, arms out at his sides.

“Nah, you did that a long time ago...Though that’s not to say you don’t impress me all the time.”

“Stop talking,” she said as she leaned over him, her hands on either side of his head, her hair a crimson screen that shielded them from the rest of the world.


End file.
